Date: Sun, 28 Jan 2007 15:55:23 -0400
From: Chris Johns <chris-johns@hotmail.com>
Subject: Treville Part 10

  Continuing the co-authored series. This is part seven by Stephen the
original author and part ten of the overall series the other three having
been written by me Chris Johns.

The whole series is copyright to the authors so please only download or
print out for personal use.

The series as a whole has loads of cp and boy/boy sex so please leave this
site if you are below legal age or it is illegal in your country of viewing.


		     Treviile Youth Correctional Camp
			   Part Seven by Stephen
	     Part Ten in the combined series with Chris Johns


I made my way across the Parade Ground to the Gym and entered quietly so as
not to disturb the wrestling practice.  As before, I was greeted by the
sight of forty Cadets clad only in their jockstraps sitting crossed legged
round the sides of the two large mats placed in the centre of the Gym.

On the mats were two pairs of Cadets wrestling each other under the watchful
eye of Kurt, the Camp's Chief Instructor.  The wrestling competition was the
highlight of Sponsors Day, which was only two days away and Kurt was giving
the boys some extra coaching.

I looked to see who were wrestling.  Nat Reed, one of my lads, in Franklin
Troop was wrestling a boy from Washington Troop, Billy someone, I wasn't
sure of his surname, and another boy from Washington was wrestling Caleb,
from Jefferson Troop.  The first pair looked pretty well matched, but the
lad partnered with Caleb looked pretty slight in comparison, though he was
fast.  As I watched, Caleb made a lunge for the boy, who darted out of the
way -- "nice one," I thought.  Caleb rushed in again, but this time the lad
took a step back and raised his knee high, whether he intended to knee Caleb
in the balls or whether Caleb just ran into it wasn't clear, but you could
hear the smack of flesh hitting flesh.  Caleb crumpled to the floor hugging
his bulging jockstrap.  The other lad rushed upon him, but before he could
get him in a hold, Kurt blew his whistle and signalled for the boy to wait.

I couldn't help grinning as I thought back to this morning's practice and
how Brad, one of the boys in my Troop had been defeated by Caleb's sustained
attack on his bollocks.  Caleb had grabbed Brad's balls through his jock and
practically ripped Brad's jockstrap off, squeezing his nuts hard until he
had been permitted to concede the round by pressing his shoulders on the
mat.  "Serves Caleb right," I thought.

Kurt told Caleb to get up and called for both pairs to break.  He gave them
a minute, then told them to wrestle again.  Caleb still looked done in from
his encounter with his opponent's knee, and was crouched-over, looking
pained.  The skinny lad from Washington moved in, but as he did so Caleb
sprung at him like a tiger.  By sheer weight and momentum, and a sweep to
his opponent's leg, he had the boy on the mat in a flash, and delivered two
punches in quick succession to his opponents balls.  The boy from
Washington, hugged his nuts, but Caleb pulled first one arm away and pinned
in down with his knee, then pulled the boy's other arm free and locked it
against his shoulder.  Caleb took careful aim, then brought his fist down
hard and fast, smashing it hard into the lad's groin.  The lad uttered a
stifled cry and opened his mouth so wide I thought he was going to spit his
balls out, but before he had time to catch his breath, Caleb had rolled him
on his front and was kneeling on him, forcing him flat down on the mat.
Then Caleb reached between the boys spread legs and grabbed his balls from
behind.  Caleb had not even bothered to maintain the semblance of wrestling
in "costume", but had thrust his hand inside his opponent's jockstrap to
grab his balls.  I saw his wrist twist before pulling back.  The look on
Caleb's face was sheer hatred, but it changed to an evil smile as he
tightened his fist.

The Washington boy screamed and began slapping his arm on the mat, but Caleb
kept squeezing his balls.  Kurt looked on as if gauging the situation; he
bent down and asked the Washington boy if he conceded.  The boy was
frantically shouting "You win, let me go!" - it looked as if Kurt was
enjoying the spectacle, and Caleb was certainly enjoying his revenge.  "Are
you sure you concede defeat," Kurt asked the lad.  I could tell Caleb was
relishing the extra time Kurt was giving him to carry on squeezing the boy's
balls. The boy could hardly talk, but Kurt insisted that he formally
conceded defeat before he told them to break -- with a final hard squeeze
Caleb got to his feet.

The boy from Washington lay writhing on the mat, clutching his balls and
rolling from side to side.  The whole room uttered a sigh, and I realised we
had all been holding our breath.  I also realised I was rock hard, and
looking at Caleb standing victorious, so was he; it looked as if his
jockstrap was about to burst.  He really gets off on fighting dirty I
thought, but glancing down the line of flushed faces and bulging jockstraps
of the boys watching, it looked as if we had all felt the same sense of
excitement.

The other pair of contestants had both had one eye on the proceedings and
had, as if by some un-signalled mutual agreement, ceased wrestling.  Now,
Billy, the lad from Washington, grabbed Nat's arms and slithering to the
floor and kicked his foot up between Nat's legs as he pulled Nat forward.
Billy's foot connected hard with Nat's nuts before lifting him clear off the
floor.  Nat rocked forward and was momentarily suspended on the boy's leg,
his whole weight pressing down on his balls, squashed under him, before
toppling down onto Billy.

Instinct rather than wrestling skill must have taken over since as he fell
headlong onto Billy, Nat brought his knee up smashing it into Washington
boy's exposed groin.  Both boys had obviously decided to take a leaf from
Caleb's style of fighting, and as they lay wrestling on the mat, their
opponent's balls appeared to be the main target for attack.  Nat was on top
now, with one leg between Billy's, and took every opportunity in their
struggles to thrust his knee up into Billy's package, as he tried to pin the
lad down.  Both boys were well matched and neither was giving up, first one
was on top, then the other, and Billy was giving as good as he was getting.
As I watched, it was evident that both boys had full-blown boners, despite
the fact that they had both been kneed in the balls several times by their
opponent. It was so erotic watching these two teen warriors wrestling
practically naked; their now rock hard cocks held tight against their belly
by their jockstrap, only serving to display their balls better as inviting
easy targets.

Eventually, just as it looked as if Nat would succeed in pinning down Billy,
he opened himself up; as he leaned forward to push Billy's shoulders down,
Billy brought his knee up so hard Nat was catapulted off him.  Nat lay
rolling on the mat, both his hands clasping his aching nuts.

As if waiting for such an outcome Kurt called time, and after lining-up the
assembled cadets told them to dress, informing them that he would be
selecting the cadets who would represent their troops in the wrestling
competition later that day.  After dismissing the Cadets they rushed back to
their bunkhouses to take a quick shower before tea.

I followed my boys of Franklin Troop, at a more leisurely pace, back to the
bunkhouse and when I entered most were naked and running for the showers.
The conversation as I opened the door seamed to be centred upon who had hit
whom hardest in the balls, and Nat yelled out about his "fucking aching
balls", just as I entered the room.  His voice trailed away in the sudden
silence which marked my entrance.  "Cadet Reed, wait outside my room," I
told him.

"You other cadets in the showers; now!" I shouted.  Nat Reed was still
wearing his jock as he ran to wait outside my room, and as the other boys
ran to the showers I noticed many had the obvious signs of a recent
paddling.  It appeared Kurt was still awarding the loser 5 swats of the
paddle as a motivator.

I went to my room and unlocked the door, bidding Nat to come in after me.
Once inside I told him that the mandatory punishment for swearing was five
licks, but that after his outburst, I had better examine his testicles
first, and told him to step out of his jock and stand legs apart with his
hands behind his head.

I pulled my chair in front of him and sat down.  I told Nat to look to the
side and grasped his testicles and stretched them down.  They were red and
clearly a bit swollen, but I guessed he hadn't really damaged himself, but I
would take my time and relish the opportunity to make it a thorough
examination.  I started at the top making sure nothing was twisted;
squeezing his balls firmly; stretched them down to the maximum.  I could
feel his balls hard and firm in my hand, and I squeezed harder, whilst I ran
my fingers of my other hand up and down his stretched ball sac, feeling for
any knotted tubes.  As I had hoped, stretching Nat's balls hard had made his
cock rise and he was now sporting a hard-on any teen boy would be proud of,
despite his obvious discomfort.

I now separated his testicles and gave each ball a good examination,
pressing and squeezing each nut from every direction and angle, asking him
to tell me when "it really hurt".

"Yes", "Now", Nat kept croaking, as I conducted my relentless probing and
squeezing of his swollen teen-balls.  Under my ministrations his left
bollock had turned a deeper shade of red, and his cock was glistening with
pre-cum, before I declared myself satisfied with that nut.

Nat's right nut was either naturally bigger or was more swollen, but spurred
on by the reaction of Nat groaning and panting, and his leaking cock, I
subjected his right bollock to an even firmer examination.  Squeezing it and
pushing my thumb in from every angle until he gasped and groaned.  Nat was
shaking visibly and I thought he might come, his cock was leaking so badly,
so I concluded my examination saying that I thought he had only got "a
typical boy's knock, and to quit making a fuss about it".

I told Nat to bend over the chair and gave him five quick swats, turning his
butt a deep red, then told him to hit the showers and that I would examine
his balls again before lights out.

I was standing watching Franklin troop in the showers, when Kurt burst
through the bunkhouse doors pushing a small barrow, which he parked by the
door.  He came over to me and told me he had brought the Cadet's Dress
Uniforms, and then called them to assemble in the dorm by their beds.  The
cadets, well drilled, ran skidding to stand naked at the foot of their beds,
and then reading from a sheet, Kurt called out the name of each boy in turn
and told him to come and collect "his No. 1s".

Kurt had obviously consulted his chart of the boys' measurements in advance
and quickly issued the uniforms, before telling them to towel themselves
dry, then try them on.  "T-shirts and jocks to be worn under."  The Cadets
quickly dress as instructed, and I watched fascinated as they donned their
uniforms.  The white trousers were really sexy.  Real tight round the thighs
and arse, and instead of a regular central fly they had a flap of material
that buttoned on both sides; narrow at the base it widened to about five
inches wide at the waist, with small brass buttons running down both sides.
With just a jockstrap under, their well developed teenage packages were
lifted high and thrust forward to be encompassed by the soft white cloth of
the uniform.   A blue-grey military jacket complemented the uniform
trousers, in a style we call "bum-freezers" in England.

Kurt went round inspecting the troop; inserting a couple of fingers inside
the waist band, and occasionally telling a Cadet to bend over and touch his
toes.  Then Kurt dished out the white military peeked caps, and a pair of
white gloves for each boy, and instructed them on how to wear their caps,
before telling them to stand by their beds for inspection.

Kurt took his time inspecting the cadets, then told them that they were to
polish their boots tonight, and that if they couldn't see their faces in
them, it would be 5 swats.
Appearing satisfied he threw each cadet a plastic hanger and then read out
the list of Cadets from Franklin who would be competing the day after
tomorrow, adding that they were to report back to the Gym after tea for a
bit of extra coaching.

After he had gone a buzz of excitement swept round the bunkhouse.  I was
really touched by how excited the cadets were to be wearing their dress
uniforms, and how my troop was congratulating those chosen to represent us
in the wresting match.
Tea was a very light-hearted affair compared to the usual restrained meal,
and the Cadets even set about polishing their boots with enthusiasm.

Brad, Jess and Nat had all been selected for the wrestling team, as had Joe
Regan and Craige, and I couldn't help but wonder whether Kurt had made his
selection as much on the size of the boy's packages as their wrestling
prowess.  I recalled how Joe had the biggest cock in my troop, at over 9
inches and Craig's nuts were the size of tomatoes.

An hour or so later, they came running in exhausted, and I told them to go
take a shower.  Kurt came in and told me to make sure they shaved completely
tonight -- "No trace of pubes, and shave yer balls as well," he instructed,
before leaving.

After their showers, I called each boy into my room in turn and gave them a
close shave with the cut-throat razor, removing every trace of stubble and
fluff from their groin and butt.  Kurt had told me to be extra vigilant over
the last week, and to make sure there was no wanking in the dorms, and I
could feel the weight of their balls, heavy in my hand, as I shaved them -- I
could tell these boys were just bursting.

As I shaved Nat's balls I noticed they were even more swollen than when I
had examined him earlier, and he confided that Kurt's private coaching had
consisted almost exclusively of grabs, throws and lifts, targeted at your
opponent's testicles.
In the practice session Kurt had demonstrated these techniques on each boy
in turn, before requiring them to practice on each other, and that there
would be a further coaching session tomorrow afternoon.

Just before lights out, I examined Nat's testicles once more; they were
definitely swollen but, after a few minutes spent squeezing each ball, I
concluded they were just a bit sore.  I could tell he was bursting to
jerk-off, but I was under strict orders that there was to be no masturbating
before the match, so that night made sure that all the cadets were well
secured in their special sleeping "drawers".

The next day passed uneventfully with the cadets cleaning and polishing, two
practice sessions of the assault course, a full dress uniform parade, and a
further private coaching session with Kurt, but despite the monotony we were
all shattered by bedtime.  I made sure the canvas drawers they wore in bed
were well secured at the back, and that the straps that ran either side of
the groin and between the legs were tightly fastened at the back.  Then, I
switched out the lights.

At seven-thirty sharp we were awoken by the morning bell, and after dressing
quickly we ran to take breakfast in the mess hall.  It was a wonderful sunny
Saturday morning, and it promised to be superb weather for Sponsor's Day.

The Cadets had changed into their No 1s to greet the sponsors, and sat
waiting in the hall.  Then, shortly before 10 o' clock, the first cars were
spotted, and the cadets were called to assemble on the Parade Ground.

A cavalcade of Cadillacs, Lincolns and other assorted limousines swept into
the Camp; the guards at the gates saluted.  The cars parked and disgorge
their occupants, who were escorted by "Patrol Leaders" to where the Reverend
Jackson stood with his two young daughters.

I had met his daughters, Mary Lou and Jessica a couple of times before, and
they looked the epitome of innocence, with their platted hair, childish
frocks and white socks, but I suspected they were far from innocent in their
thoughts.  The eldest, Mary Lou was fifteen, and certainly well developed
under her modest blouse, and I had seen how she and her younger sister,
Jessica, eyed up the boys when they exercised in just their shorts.

After a few minutes, Kurt called the assembled Cadets to attention and the
party of dignitaries began the honour inspection.  The Rev Jackson leading,
the guests following, and with the Reverend's daughters taking up the rear,
they began to walk slowly down the lines of assembled Cadets.

Jessica was sucking a lollypop of all things, and the gap between them and
the other guests lengthened until soon the Reverend had completed inspecting
the first line and turned to the row behind.  The girls were in no hurry and
stood only inches from the boys, as they ran their eyes up and down each boy
in turn.  By the time they reached my troop the girls were a full line
behind the Rev. Jackson and his party and, as they passed, I heard them
whispering and giggling.  They stopped in front of each boy as he stood to
attention and after looking at his face their eyes descended to the boy's
white dress uniform trousers.  The double rows of brass buttons either side
of the groin might have been in keeping with Civil War uniforms, but it sure
emphasised their package.  With only a jockstrap under, the single layer of
soft cloth moulded itself to their bulge, taking on the profile of the
jockstrap beneath.

Jessica was sucking her lollypop in a most suggestive fashion, and as they
stood in front of Joe, giggling and whispering, Joe's face turned bright
red.  I glanced at where they were staring.  "Bloody Hell!" it was clear
from the huge bulge in the front of his trousers that Joe had popped a
boner.  Jessica stood in front of him sucking the end of her lollypop as she
stared hard at his tenting trousers, before pushing it her lollypop deep
into her mouth.  Looking back down the line, I could see that Joe was not
the only Cadet to be in that predicament.  The next instant Mary Lou had the
camera she was carrying to her eye and had taken a picture.  There was
nothing any of us could do but wait for the little scamps to pass down the
line.

Fortunately, the Reverend Jackson and the visiting dignitaries soon
completed the inspection and Kurt called for the parade to turn to their
right, then to the sound of martial music, we marched off, to the seating
area and, by columns of ten, filed in to take our seats.  During the
inspection a large number of other civilians had arrived and had taken the
seats assigned to them opposite us.  The Rev. Jackson commenced the address
by outlining the success of the Camp over the years, and by thanking some of
the dignitaries for attending, and thanking the sponsors for supporting the
programme.

Kurt had told me about the sponsorship programme, and how local, and not so
local, rich-folk could sponsor a kid through the Camp, and how once each
term they were invited to attend and meet their protégé.  Since they were
paying the boy's fees, the Camp gave them near full parental authority, and
this was no doubt part of the attraction of the scheme.  Concluding his
address, the Rev. Jackson read out the list of sponsored Cadets, along with
the names of the boys sent by the Department of Juvenile Correction who were
to report to the mess hall.  The Cadets were then dismissed and rushed off
to change into their PT kit.

I followed the boys sent to the mess hall and watched as each cadet was told
the table number to go to.  In another line, the Rev. Jackson was telling
the sponsors which table their charges were at and handing them an envelope.
  Many sponsors had more than one Cadet sitting at their table, but at a
table close to me a powerfully built man sat down opposite Jes Watkins, one
of the lads in my troop.  I watched as he opened the envelope and took out
Jes' report card and a conduct sheet; he read it slowly, licking his lips
occasionally; Jes looked nervous.  I sauntered over and introduced myself as
Jes' instructor.  We shook hands and the man said he was from the County's
Juvenile Correction Board and that he was in loco parentis of Jes.  He
thought the Camp did an excellent job in turning round troubled teens,
providing just the sort of discipline that was needed -- "OK then Jes, he
said, I'll see you in the gym in 15 minutes, and with that he walked off."

I mingled with the other sponsors, by now enjoying drinks served by some of
the older Cadets, acting as stewards. In deference to the large number of
military men and State officials, the Reverend had laid aside the normal
rule forbidding alcohol on the Camp premises and most guests chose to accept
the proffered glasses of famous Tennessee Sour Mash rather than orange
juice.   It was a surprisingly mixed crowd composed almost equally of
civilians and those in uniform.  Most of the civilians were probably
businessmen, but there were a couple of Senators, a Judge and several men
from the Board of Correction, Kurt told me.

The Rev. Jackson tapped a glass and the conversation died to hushed
whispers.  "Good morning Gentlemen", he announced.  "As is customary, having
studied the report cards and conduct sheets of the Cadets, as Sponsor, you
will be given the opportunity to discipline your charges in the manner you
think fit.  The first session will be in about 5 minutes, in the Gym, but
due to our tight schedule there will be a second session for those Cadets
competing in the wrestling competition after the match.  We suggest that you
make those competing in the match aware of the need to compete hard.  I
would also like to remind you that whilst you may hand spank as you see fit,
the maximum number of strokes with an implement of correction is 18, and for
safety must be administered to the Cadet's posterior over the horse.
Unless, that is, the boy has been sent here by the Board of Correction, in
which case the Board's regulations permit a maximum of 24 strokes.  However,
as time is limited, I would ask you to accompany me now.  Thank you
Gentlemen -- follow me, please."

To a genial buzz of excitement the assembled sponsors followed the Reverend
outside and across the Parade Ground to the Gym.  As we entered, I was
struck by the transformation; well-spaced chairs occupied the floor in a
semicircle, facing a recently erected stage on which the wrestling
competition would take place, but now in its centre stood the vaulting
horse.  The fire doors stood ajar and Kurt went and closed them.  On a small
table near the horse was arranged a collection of paddles, a razor strop and
a couple of canes. The sponsors quickly chose a chair, took of their jackets
and, as if on cue, sat down and rolled up their sleeves

The Reverend mounted the stage and held his hand up for silence.
"Gentlemen," he said, "a child must learn to obey by discipline, and it is
our Christian duty to instil discipline and correct moral values; to
withhold discipline from a child is not only foolish, it is wicked, and
contrary to the word of God".  "The Bible tells us that foolishness is bound
in the heart of a child.  The rod of correction will drive it far from him -
Proverbs 22:15.  Furthermore, God commands us not withhold correction from a
child, for if you beat him with a rod, he will not die, but you deliver his
soul from hell, Proverbs 23:13."  Picking up a cane from the table the
Reverend brought it down with a loud "CRACK!"  "Chasten your sons while
there is hope!  Proverbs 19:18, he cried.

He strode down the steps and walked out the doors.  A few minutes later we
heard the sound of marching feet, and four Cadets in dress uniform led a
column of boys dressed in PT shorts into the Gym.  Two further uniformed
Cadets brought up the rear, and remained by the doors as the Cadets formed a
single line along the wall.  Kurt called them to attention; then bid them
call out their name and table number in turn.  As each Cadet called out his
number, a sponsor raised his hand as if bidding for the boy, and called out
"over here son," or here boy", and the Cadet marched smartly to take his
place standing next to his seated sponsor.

When all the Cadets had taken their places, Kurt announced that Cadets
sponsored at the Camp owed a special responsibility to their sponsors to
study hard, work diligently and conduct themselves in an exemplary manner.
Since many of them had absent fathers, the sponsors, being in loco parentis,
would now administer the traditional parental discipline they so sadly
lacked at home.

As I watched, the sponsors set about their duties with enthusiasm.  Some had
their charges climb over their knees still wearing their shorts; some told
them to lower their shorts and climb over a knee wearing just their
jockstrap; some told their charges to strip completely; while yet others
took it upon themselves to lower the boys' shorts and jockstrap before
commanding the naked boy to get over their knee.

Soon the room was filled with the sound of spanking as each sponsor settled
in to disciplining his charges.  Some sponsors spanked slow and hard, making
the boy count them out; while others delivered rapid bursts that sounded
like machine gun fire - and the sponsors had their charges in every kind of
position, from both hands on the floor, or grasping the chair legs, to
holding an arm bent behind their back.

The noise level in the room increased as sponsors competed with each other
to deliver the loudest smack, and to generate the loudest yell from their
wayward Cadet.  One pair of sponsors had placed four chairs together to form
two pairs back to back and had their naked Cadets kneeling over the chairs
side by side, facing each other, each boy's face only inches from the
other's cock, as their respective sponsors took it in turns to spank the
upraised butts.

The atmosphere was electric and you could smell the pheromoneal scent of
adolescent males, mingling with the sweat of the older men.  I wandered
round the room discreetly - after ten minutes spanking every Cadet already
had a bright red arse, and there was no indication that the sponsors felt
inclined to ease-up.

Most of the younger Cadets were already in tears and begging for their
sponsors to stop, but if anything, it served only to spur them on to greater
efforts.  Several boys were bucking so hard that it looked as if they risked
coming on their sponsor's lap, and quite a few sponsors had decided that the
best way to keep their boy still was to hold his dick or balls tight to keep
him in place.

As I wondered past the cupboard in the Gym where the horse was normally
stored I thought I heard a noise coming from inside, and noticed the door
was slightly ajar, but now was not the time to investigate -- I would check
that out later.

After a further five minutes spanking, Kurt called in a loud voice for all
the Cadets to stand naked legs wide apart facing the wall for inspection.
With a final smack, the sponsors released their prey who ran, painfully, to
the far wall to stand with their hands behind their heads, displaying their
well spanked rear-ends.

The Cadets stood in silence for three minutes, giving the sponsors time to
catch their breath as they admired the long line of cherry-red bottoms.
Then, Kurt told the Cadets to about face, but to keep their hands locked
behind their heads.  As the Cadets turned to face us, we were greeted by the
sight of every single cadet sporting an erection -- not one Cadet did not
have a cock pointing skyward, and their faces were as red as their butts.

Kurt read out a name from his list and the first boy stepped forward.  Kurt
ordered him to march forward ascend the stage and get over the horse.  A
cute blond lad from Washington troop, he walked awkwardly forward, his cock
bobbing up and down, to mount the horse.  As he went to lie over the horse,
Kurt pushed his rock hard cock down between his legs; it pointed straight
down lifting his tight balls to nestle at the base of his butt.

Kurt nodded to the boy's sponsor to come forward and a middle-aged gentlemen
rose to his feet and walked up the steps to the stage.  Two uniformed Cadets
had each taken hold of the boys arms and were stretching him tightly, as two
more uniformed cadets separated his legs wide apart and held them.  The
Cadet's sponsor moved to the side table and selected his chosen implement
for punishment; he chose the razor strap.

As he approached the horse he told the Cadets holding the boy to pull him
over further and they pulled his arms down further lifting the boy clear off
his feet.  He told the other two Cadets to stretch his legs further apart
and they complied.  The Washington Cadet was now perched high on the horse,
and his erect cock jutting back near horizontal, his tight teen balls
vulnerable and displayed for all to see raised up by his swollen cock.

Savouring the sight, the sponsor flicked the razor strap through the air a
couple of times, before aiming and at the boy's arse and bringing it down
hard and fast.  It exploded with a "Bang!" and the boy screamed.  A wide red
horizontal band appeared across the centre of the boy's arse, and he
appeared to jump up, despite being restrained.  The Cadets held him tighter
and his tormentor took aim again.  This time he lifted the strap even higher
and brought it down faster, causing an even louder "Bang!" as it struck
flesh.  The boy screamed again and the wide stripe took on a deeper colour.
The man paused, then took aim again, delivering the third swing just as
hard, and as accurately - I could tell that all three of these strokes had
landed neatly on top of each other.  Despite being held by four senior
Cadets, the boy from Washington troop was bucking like crazy.  "Bang!" the
fourth stroke was a little higher but still overlapped the earlier.

The sponsor stepped closer and placing a hand on the Cadet's red arse
stretched the boy's buttocks wide apart before bringing the strop down hard
between his stretched cheeks. The cadet howled and bucked, only to be
rewarded by another swat, aimed at his quivering pink hole.  Two more swats
followed from the other side, aimed at his stretched hole, before his
sponsor delivered a real stinger across both butt cheeks, right in line with
his arsehole.

Not content with this assault on the boy's most tender area, his sponsor
stretched the Cadet's buttocks wider and delivered two more, well aimed,
swats in rapid succession, as if seeking entry for the strop into the
Cadet's inner regions.  The boy's bucking had become frantic, and now as he
lifted his butt, it received a hard smack with the strop.

Despite the concerted attack on his hole, the boy's cock remained rigid, and
was now leaking so much that a long thread of pre-cum was dribbling down
from his knob.  From my count, he had already received 12 strokes with the
strop, and now with the thirteenth, his cock erupted and he shot a big jet
of spunk behind him.  But, before he had even finished spunking, his sponsor
delivered a low swat with the strop right across the cadet's raised balls,
causing him to both scream in pain, but also emit another spurt.

The boy's jizim lay like silver threads across the canvas covered mats of
the stage.  As if this was the most normal thing, the sponsor slowly walked
to the table and put down the razor strop, before selecting a cane.

He thrashed the cane through the air a few times before returning to his
position.  Then, after tapping the Cadet's bottom a few times, delivered
four perfectly parallel cuts across the Cadet's well-thrashed bottom.  Too
exhausted and spent to move, the young Cadet lay sobbing and utterly spent,
as each stroke of the cane drew a deep purple line on his arse.

The whole assembly had watched spell bound by the performance, and I almost
expected the room to burst into applause, but instead there was a shuffling
and collective sigh, and I realised that everyone watching had been holding
their breath so as not to break the spell.

Kurt called out the name and number of the next Cadet to be punished, and he
came to attention and marched forward.  Despite his forthcoming ordeal, his
cock was rock- hard as he mounted the horse.  Kurt had meanwhile adjusted
the roll of rough towelling that lay on top of the horse, so that it lifted
the boy's red buttocks even higher.  His sponsor walked to the table and
picked up the drilled paddle.  "Count them out Boy," he ordered.  His
sponsor I recognised as being one of the Senators whom Kurt had pointed out
- a powerfully built man in his late forties.  He stood to the left of the
boy, and appeared in no rush as he carefully positioned himself.  Then
lifting the paddle high, he brought it down hard and fast.  It exploded on
the Cadet's arse with a terrific "BANG!" which echoed round the Gym.  The
Cadet's scream was equally loud.   The Senator waited and the seconds ticked
by.  The Senator had already lifted the paddle high again, and when the
Cadet had managed to compose himself and to call out "One, Sir," he brought
it crashing down again.  Barely had the count left the boy's mouth before he
uttered another piercing yell.  The Senator stood waiting, the paddle held
high.  After a pause, the Cadet called out "Two, Sir," and again the paddle
sped down with a "CRASH!"

By the sixth stroke the Cadet's yells were high pitched and he was in tears,
and gap lengthen between him calling out each number and his voice had taken
on the faltering tone of an adolescent.  After the sixth stroke the Senator
paused and walked back to the table and replaced the paddle.  The boy lay
panting across the horse, and I had thought the punishment had finished, but
that was not to be.

After a moments pause, the Senator picked up the razor strop and returned
once more to the punishment horse.  The Cadet's buttocks were a deep red
from the whuppn he had received with the paddle, and the Senator ran his
hand across them as he told the Cadets restraining the boy to pull him
higher over the horse.  The uniformed Cadets pulled him onto the horse, so
that he was practically horizontal with only his legs below his knees off
the horse; the rolled towel lifting his butt up high.  The Senator stood
behind the boy and reached between the Cadets legs, adjusting his position
and spreading his legs either side of the horse.  When he stood aside, I
could see the Cadet's rock hard cock pointing down vertically, its purple
knob end against the grey towelling roll.

Flicking the strop a few times to judge its weight, the Senator judged his
position, then bringing the strop back at arms length he brought it whizzing
through the air to strike dead centre of the Cadet's upraised pert buttocks.
  With a howl the boy wriggled his butt, to be rewarded by another hard lick
with the strop.  He uttered another howl of pain and lifted his butt again.
Again the strop smashed down, and again he howled, jerking his bottom up as
if seeking escape, but the more he howled and wriggled the harder and faster
the Senator whupped him.  The Cadet was going crazy, his now scarlet arse
bouncing up and down as if he was humping the horse.

The Senator matched the pace of the Cadet; strapping his bouncing butt with
increasing severity every time he lifted it.  The Cadets holding his legs
had them stretched wide apart, but they either could not hold him down in
this position, or chose not too, as his arse bounced up and down ever more
frantically.  It was a wild sight to watch as the kid's arse got the
blistering of a lifetime, and I wondered when it would end.

With each stroke of the strop the Cadet bucked more, and the more he bucked
the harder the Senator stropped him.  I could see the perspiration patch
under the Senator's arm as he raised the strop, he was surely putting all
his effort into the task.  By the ninth stroke the Cadet was bucking
furiously, but this seamed only to spur the Senator on to greater exertions,
until on the tenth stroke the boy uttered a strangled cry and his cock
pumped jet after jet of hot teen spunk onto the horse, to dribble slowly
down the black leather.  The Senator watched in satisfaction, as if it was
what he had been waiting for, then delivered the last two final stokes,
causing the Cadet to buck some more, it was as if he was milking every drop
of spunk from the boy with his whupping.

"Bloody hell," I had seen both Cadets get their arses blistered till they
had ejaculated.  I couldn't help thinking that the Reverend should have been
present to witness "the second coming!"

Kurt called the Cadets up in turn to get over the horse for punishment, and
appeared to make his selection on the basis of which boy had the strongest
erection -- not an easy decision, given that most of the Cadets had rigid
straining cocks!  Spoilt for choice of implement, several sponsors chose to
give a combination of paddle, strap and cane in their own order of
preference.

The performance proceeded as each Cadet was called to the horse for
punishment by his sponsor.  No wonder the Camp could afford to offer so many
places to under privileged kids, if the sponsors could tan the arses of
these cute teen boys so vigorously once a term.
Finally, the last Cadet was called up to take his place over the horse.  He
was shaking visibly though he tried to look calm as he walked towards the
stage and mounted the steps.  A rather older boy with dark hair, he was slim
but had the muscle development gained by having spent several months at the
Camp.

As he walked naked down the hall, his well developed, and so recently hard,
young cock swung between his legs.  Although no longer hard, the boy's cock
looked a good six-inches and he had low hanging balls to match.  The whole
package swung about with every step he took.  "God, no wonder they make the
kids wear jocks all the time," I thought.

The lad positioned himself over the horse and the Cadets spread his legs
wide while those holding his arms stretched him so that he was standing on
his toes.  His rounded buttocks, already red from the hand spanking, were
pushed back as if begging for further punishment.  His sponsor, a well build
military officer, marched to the stage and walked purposefully to the side
table and took up a large drilled paddle.  Striding purposefully to stand
next to his Cadet, he raised the paddle to shoulder height and brought it
down with force -- "CRACK!"

"One, Sir," the young Cadet shouted out.  We were all struck by the resolute
way in which the Cadet had taken the swat and had replied in a firm voice.
The officer raised the paddle again, paused, then delivered a second hard
swat.  "CRACK!"  "Two, Sir," the Cadet called out.  Again, the officer
paused then raised the paddle and brought it down faster than before and it
exploded on the boy's arse.  A moment passed, then the Cadet replied "Three,
Sir," in a steeled voice.

It was not until the sixth stroke that the Cadet's voice quavered and a sob
escaped, but he still manfully called out the numbers.  The officer gave him
a little longer to recover, then administered another six hard swats before
placing the paddle on the table.  The Cadet's arse glowed a deep red, the
military man had certainly not held back in administering the punishment
with the force he believed it warranted, and the drilled paddle had whistled
through the air, but the boy had counted out the twelve swats in a firm
voice.  His sponsor stood waiting then told the Cadets to release the boy,
who stood and turned to face him.  The Cadet brushed the tears from his eyes
then extended his hard to his sponsor "Thank you, Sir" he said, as he shook
hands.

It was so touching; and I noticed a few sponsors brush their eyes.  These
had been a dozen hard swats indeed, but there was clearly a bond between the
man and boy and I could tell that both were proud about the way the Cadet
had taken his punishment.  It was a sobering moment, as those gathered were
reminded of the responsibilities of being a sponsor.

After the last Cadet had received his loco-parentis punishment on stage,
Kurt announced that, to maintain the schedule, the remaining punishments
would be conduced after the wresting match, and that sponsors would now have
a 20 minute refreshment and comfort break, before watching the Cadets tackle
the assault course.
Dismissing the Cadets, Kurt led us back into the mess hall where drinks were
served.

I doubted if the Cadets now running from the Gym would obtain any comfort
during the break -- their arses must feel on fire, I thought.  But, the
sponsors seemed in even better humour as they partook of their second round
of drinks before lunch, and there was noisy laughter as they talked to each
other, discussing how different boys had taken their punishments.

The Reverend Jackson was certainly knocking back the drink which rather
shocked me, as I had assumed from his talk of sin and wickedness that he
would be a "tea totaller" but clearly I was wrong.  He and the Senator were
topping up their glasses like there was no tomorrow. Just then Jessica and
Mary Lou came running down the corridor and burst into the room.  But,
immediately they composed themselves and adopted the sweet and innocent
manner expected by their Father and sauntered over to the drinks table to
get a Coke.

I glanced at my watch; there was just time for me to call by the Gym again
before going with the others to watch the Cadets tackle the assault course;
there was something I wanted to check-out.

The lights were still on in the Gym and the horse was on the stage.  I
walked over to the table and idly picked up the razor strop.  It was still
warm from all the pounding it had given to the Cadets' arses.  I put it back
and glanced about, the fire exit door was not closed properly and I went to
close it.  As I passed the cupboard in which the horse was normally stored,
I noticed that the door to that was also not shut properly.  But, just then
a dozen Cadets ran into the Gym and, while four boys carted off the horse
and put it back in the cupboard, the remaining Cadets began rearranging the
chairs in straight lines facing the stage.  They had finished it all within
five minutes and with a cheery "Come on, Sir, it's the Assault Course Trials
now," sped out again at the double.

They were right, I had better get a move on or I would be late.  Both the
Assault Course Trials and the Wrestling Match, after lunch, were the
highlights of the day -- not forgetting the punishment session I had just
witnessed!  I ran out of the Gym nearly as excited as the boys.


Stephen has another chapter under construction that looks as though it will
be as steamy as this one.

If you want it quickly let Stephen know how much you enjoy his writing. It
always spurs me on when I receive your emails so let's hope it has the same
effect on him.